what we forget to remember

are the flat tires fixed

by roadside strangers

we forget when young we

snatched the cane of an overlord

and righted the elder

with no intent

like a swan necked round a lover

feathers laid back in alarm

are you my hero

are you here to harm

this is the universe crawling begotten

this is the friendship

we are faced with uncertain

how many times have I drunk

elixir well spoken in language

I know when I’m drunk and broken

it comes back forever

this drink this reposting

beware of the bulls when they

crash through the wrong

I am drunk and unhinged

bored with bleating song

Make a video of this

you panting sad poseurs

this city ain’t dead

though it makes a great poem

this city ain’t dead’

though it makes a great poem.

3.3.18 nyc

PHOTO: Tim Tapling